Fireflies
by Cantaria
Summary: Summers bring unexpected visitors to Bag End. Light slash contained herein.


   
  
  
  
Title: Fireflies

Pairing: F/S

Rating: G

Warnings: Light slash. Diet slash, if you will. 

Disclaimer: These hobbits are still not mine. 

Feedback: Sure! It would be greatly appreciated. 

Summary: Summers bring unexpected visitors to Bag End.  

A/N: Now, do fireflies actually exist in Middle Earth? It is not entirely implausible, I think. This musing led to this little ficlet. 

  
  
  
It was late summer in the Shire, and it had never been hotter. The air was laden with a thick, syrupy feel, sticky-sweet, like molasses. The very act of moving proved to be a trial, for the air made the inhabitants feel slow and sleepy, so that they yearned for nothing more than a lie down that would quite possibly last until a cooler breeze drifted in. As a result, many a youngster (and even old gaffers) was swatted for their laziness. But there was, at least, one hobbit who could miraculously resist the charms of the stagnant, humid air, and that happened to be none other than Sam Gamgee. Sam, though early in his tweens, was as sturdy and stalwart a fellow as anyone could wish. He could toil laboriously through the oppressive heat and still use the utmost tenderness and care with his work- something that evoked endless pride from his old Gaffer. "My lad," he'd say to himself, "has already grown up to be a fine, simple hobbit." Nobody argued with him on that point.   
  
And yet, Sam retained an almost childlike sense of innocence; he still was able to take delight in the simplest -and often most beautiful- things. Even in this choking heat, he could find something to marvel at.  
  
*****  
"Sam? Sam, are you still out there? You should be on your way home!" It was a particularly scorching evening; even though the Sun was nigh on setting, no breeze had yet come to provide relief. But the heat aside, it was as lovely a night as can be: the sky was exceptionally clear, a deep warm blue that was tinged with a gold-sanguine glow just at the horizon.

Sam, who had been engrossed in watching the sunset, started. "Oh! Hello, Mr. Frodo. Bless me, but I didn't realize it was so late. Time just slipped by me, it seems."

Frodo smiled. "That's odd; for me, it's the exact opposite. It seems as though time is stretched, almost to a standstill. It can be maddening. I feel leaden," he added, his smile fading slightly. 

"It's the heat that's making you feel this way," Sam assured him quickly. "It's like trying to breathe in mud most of the time. It's enough to addle anyone's brains."

Frodo wandered over to the garden and stooped down to caress a petal between his fingers. "Poor plants. How do they bear it, do you think? Enduring such heat with so little relief?" Frodo looked up from the flower to meet Sam's eyes. Sam wondered if those words hinted at something entirely different than plants. 

"Well," Sam said, looking thoughtful, "I reckon they handle it the same way we all do. They know that the rain has to come eventually, see, so they cling to that hope as long as they can. And these plants are lucky, because they have someone who will help them bear the heat until the rain comes."

Frodo nodded. "I suppose you're right, Sam. The heat obviously has no effect on your brain, and for that, I envy you." He smiled and laid a hand on Sam's arm. Sam was suddenly grateful for the dim light of the evening. Amiable silence fell for a few moments.  After a while, Sam noticed a faint greenish glow wavering near the ground. 

"Look," Sam said softly. "Unless the heat is making my eyes go queer, I reckon we've been visited by fireflies."

"Well, they're certainly not fairies," came the amused response. "Though I wonder why I haven't seen them often before."

"Maybe you've just never noticed them before, Mr. Frodo."

"Perhaps," Frodo agreed. "Or perhaps they're lost, and somehow had the misfortune of landing here." Frodo's tone was light, but Sam was certain he sensed a hint of something dark troubling his eyes. Sam suddenly realized how he could remedy that. 

"Oh, no, Frodo, I think they meant to be here," Sam said, stooping down and scooping something up with his hands. Whatever it was, its glow was visible from between the cracks of his fingers. 

"Sam, have you captured a fairy?" Frodo sounded scandalized. 

"No, but I reckon I've found something that could make them envious." Sam stepped closer to Frodo, opening his hands a sliver. "Take a look."

As Frodo peered down to look, his forehead nearly brushed with Sam's. He saw the little prisoner and said, "Oh, what a sight, Sam! It really is beautiful." Frodo's face was faintly illuminated by the green light; his eyes fairly burned with it. 

"Yes, it _is_ beautiful," Sam agreed. But he wasn't looking at the firefly.


End file.
